


Fate/An Empty Bowl

by Sealio



Category: Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Genderbending, Holy Grail War (Fate), POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 11:53:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20947892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sealio/pseuds/Sealio
Summary: In a world where the Holy Grail ritual is widely seen as a failure, someone has bothered to counterfeit the ritual. None the less, ten masters answer the call to battle across an old industrial town on the edge of the North American frontier.They may not know what worth the grail really has, or what purpose its creator had in hosting the competition, but they are ready to fight, to kill, to ally, and to betray, all for the chance to claim it as their own.





	1. Chapter 1

Three great magus families, Matou, Einzbern, and Tohsaka, once gathered to devise a means to reach the root. The system they designed was infallible. A ritual which would summon a set of servants and a cup to collect their souls as they slay each other. Once filled it would punch a hole right to the root. The first time the ritual was invoked the assembled magi were unable to come to an agreement on who should first utilize the grail and parted ways. During the second ritual the mages and their servants fought with all the strength they could muster, yet none emerged alive, let alone victorious. During the final Fuyuki Holy Grail War the Einzbern master sought to summon a servant of unrivalled power, yet even this power play failed to yield victory. Once again the Grail went unclaimed.

In August of 1945 the fate meant for Hiroshima was instead parted upon the smaller city of Fuyuki. Instrument failure had left the crew without clear direction. As fuel dwindled and anxiety regarding potential IJAAS interceptors grew the crew determined to drop their payload on the first port city their present trajectory took them over. Interestingly, the crew reported two flashes, the second later determined to have been the product of a massive munitions cook-off within the artificial tunnels found within the remains of Mt. Fuyuki. In light of the devastation wrought by a non-magical devise, the ritual which had never worked was written off.

However, survivors of the Fuyuki bombing raid congregated, as if drawn together by the subconscious yearning for a force they’d always known yet never seen. In the mountainous western edge of Tokyo the hamlet of New Fuyuki sprung up near a ravine which contained a marsh of repugnant mud. By this time the Grail Wars had become an open secret amongst the Magus Association, evidence of its existence and function having been exposed during the investigations of the (Association-hijacked) Manhattan Project Atomic Bomb Investigating Group.

Following a land survey in the 1970s it was confirmed that the Greater Grail had indeed migrated along the leylines to rest near New Fuyuki. Magi around the world interpreted this news as a challenge and began preparing, to ensure that they were amongst the seven chosen, and to ensure that they had all they needed to win once they were. In truth, the fourth Holy Grail War begun then and there, as prospective masters killed each other over catalysts, over information, even just to thin out potential competition, a select few may have even been preemptively taken out by the Counter Force. When the Grail granted not seven, but seven score sets of command seals disaster was invited upon the plans of all the clever magi.

What had been set to be a calculated battle of wits turned into a torrent of ceaseless attritional bloodshed as the Association’s best and brightest killed and were killed by the dozen. In the end the Broken Grail simply unleashed an earthquake, having been fed too many servants. For the Association the whole affair, the Culling of Ambition as it came to be known, was taken as but a reminder that a magus must keep their hubris in check and their mind civilized. For the wider world, it was the most expensive natural disaster in history. For both, it represented something to be studied and hopefully never repeated.

In 2019 a mage of an insignificant family announced that he would be holding his own, proper, Holy Grail War. The association brushed him off as a fraud who insulted their intelligence. And yet he was accompanied by a servant.


	2. Setting the Stage

Mister Condrie examined the papers on the desk of his study. He knew he should organize them. Normally he would. However, the past few days he’d been overtaken by such anxiety that he saw no use in such details. A dead man had no need for well kept transaction records.

A tapping on the window made him nearly jump out of his skin. The storm outside raged furiously, the branch of a large tree slapping against the window with each gust. The female figure kneeling before the window in prayer took no note of this. A part of him reacted viscerally to this. After all, she could see the future, she more than anyone else should be panic stricken given what was to follow. It had to be her resolve, the only alternative to that possibility was that he was going insane and that certainly couldn’t be! Unless of course it was, he was meddling in the affairs of the magical world for the first time in decades. It was a distinct possibility that he had made some mistake or another at some point which inflicted this deteriorating mental state upon him.

The sound of the woman exhaling caught the man off guard, “Marie?”

“Oui?” She asked, unclasping her hands to make the sign of the cross.

Feeling the sweat beading up on his forehead he nervously asked, “What did you see?”

Marie turned to face him, revealing the face beneath the habit she wore, “The plan is working. I saw the school girl at the shrine with the unremarkable foot soldier. I saw the monster in the attic with the motherly queen. I saw the landless priest atop a mountain with the sleeping emperor. I saw the well learned man beneath the pyramids with the unstoppable cannibal. I saw the vengeful orphan before the stele with the insane despot. I saw the classicist in the museum with his clever idol. I saw the mercenary beneath the castle with the robber baron. I saw the rich man in the manor with the more famous saint. I saw the beginner in his backyard with the lost man. Of course I also saw the man with the beast taking note of our little game.”

Mister Condre gripped the arms of his office chair, “Mon Dieu! Not counting you or the beast that makes 9 servants. How can that be?”

Marie narrowed her eyes in disapproval, “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain. You speak to the 8th class right now, and the existence of the beast is known to you. Therefore it shouldn’t be too surprising to hear that two more additional classes exist.”

“Bon sang,” he grumbled, before starting his next question, “When you say rich man-”

“Far wealthier than you.” She cut him off.

“Alright, so all the pieces are in play and making their way to Sault Ste. Marie?” He asked, putting aside his bruised ego.

“Yes. As nice as this mansion is, as the war’s hosts we would be wise to get their before any of the non-local contestants arrive.” Marie replied.

“The plane tickets have been prepared for tomorrow.” Condrie replied.

“Very well then, you should sleep now monsieur Condrie.” Marie stated.

He got up to leave. That was rather nostalgic. He’d partly shed his Canadien roots while studying at the Clocktower, and nearly divorced them entirely when he decided trading stocks on Bay Street was more his style. Then the founder of the Ursuline Nuns showed up at his door in the form of a ruler class servant, and now he was roped into helping her run an imitation Holy Grail War in his home town in the hopes that one of the servants summoned would be able to best the beast.

By the time he finished that line of thought he’d arrived at the door to his room. Opening it up he stepped into the darkness beyond. It was so surreal. He admittedly had the contacts both in the mage community and the small northern city to set up the Grail War, and his extensive capital reserves certainly helped keep things on track. In that sense it made sense he would be chosen for this role. However, their were surely other wealthy mages with connections in smaller cities. Additionally making a “grail” which only summoned servants, apparently more than seven, and imitated its latent magical signature was easier than could have been expected. After that, announcing that he was hosting a genuine Holy Grail War was easy enough that anyone could have done so. As nothing else about him stood out, he supposed that Marie had singled him out as a fellow Canadien.

He pulled his sheets over himself. That everything was going to plan so far is what disturbed him most. This wasn’t irrational. The plan was after all to reside in the same city as the beast for the duration of the Imitation Grail War. He knew nothing of the beast other than that it was a servant which had survived the Fourth Holy Grail War, an event colloquially known amongst non-participant magi as the Culling of Ambition.

Unable to sleep, Mister Condrie stared at a particularly dark corner of his room, his anxiety convincing him that the beast had to be there. Watching him. Waiting to impart the most violent death imaginable upon him. His heart pounded like a snare drum and he was slowly overpowered by the urge to run and lock himself in a well lit room.

Only when he heard Marie walking down the hall to the guest room did his nerves subside enough for his heavy eyelids to finally close. There was no need to be afraid. After all, what could be more idyllic than a week cottaging in Algoma?

His blaring alarm clock woke him swiftly. He felt as though he had gotten maybe a couple hours of sleep. A rushed breakfast, a traffic jam getting into Toronto, a delay with the ferry, and further hold ups at Billy Bishop airport ensured that he and Marie were scampering aboard their plane just as it was getting ready to take off, in spite of their schedule affording two hours for potential delay.

Once in the air he was happy to lean back in his seat and rest his eyes for the hour and a half flight up north.

“Monsieur, we are in the air.” Marie, who had taken the window seat, stated, interrupting his rest.

“Yes and?” Mister Condrie asked.

“This is amazing, the plane doesn’t even need to flap its wings.” Marie remarked without peeling her eyes off the window.

Pretending not to have heard that remark Mister Condrie grumbled and returned to his efforts to fall asleep.

Marie for her part remained glued to the window, watching as the disgustingly huge and impossibly tall city retreated from view, and as the patchwork of english style farms gave way to forrest and thousands of little lakes. This was the land she knew as the Pays d'en Haut, or Upper Country. Not that she’d ever been here, in her time this was the land only visited by fur traders and Jesuits. Speaking of whom, within her lifetime it had been the latter who founded and named their destination. She regretted not taking the opportunity to see it in life.

As they flew northwest the trees below began changing colours, and soon the forests looked like the most beautiful tapestry of reds, yellows, golds, oranges, and browns. It was truly wonderful to witness, and she was ashamed that at her behest something as undeserved as a brutal war between heathens would be unleashed on such a setting.

As she began to lose interest in the endless forest, occasionally crossed by a road or dotted with a town, something began to appear. The plane had shifted onto a western course now, and there on the banks of a large river between two of the great lakes she could see their destination. The city itself was more like a giant suburb clustered around a much smaller downtown, pushing back the forest. In the northeast a massive solar farm stood, looking alien amongst its surroundings. Further north stretched the breathtaking forests of Algoma. To the west a colossal industrial park, quarry, and port facility stood out like an offence against nature itself. Further west than that lay a stretch of farmers’ fields and their destination of Sault Ste. Marie International Airport.

As the Aircraft began its descent Mr Condrie woke up, feeling worse than when he shut his eyes. He did his best to shake off his exhaustion as he stood and exited the plane as directed by the steward.

Once through airport security he had time to take in his first true breath of fresh air. As usual for this place, proximity to the steel foundry made the air not all that fresh in spite of the city’s small size and isolation.

“So now the stage is set.” Marie spoke softly by his side.

“Well the cab is late.” Mr. Condrie replied, letting out a sight at the realization that such a mundane matter was his primary obstacle. Soon enough he would be back in the home in which he grew up and he’d be able to settle down and rest his exhausted body in his bed. Not the grand bed of his Toronto residence, but the one which he knew he’d finally feel safe in.

\---

Across the continent and further across the Pacific, Ruler’s prophecy was unfolding.

She had been too rash.

Once again Yuuki Miyanoshita mentally kicked herself. When she told her professor at the Clocktower about her reason for returning home he had given her a piece of King Arthur’s Round Table to use as a relic. However, Tokyo is very different from London. In both magical and mundane aspects it has a very different energy about it. She had let her attachment to her hometown get the best of her and now the servant seated across the table from her was surely far beneath any of the knights of the round table, let along Arthur himself.

“So sabre, you’re certain that you’re Terasaka Kichiemon?” Yuuki said, looking over the wiki article again. Of course she had to summon the only of the Forty Seven Ronin to survive. Of course she had to summon the one which had been a mere foot soldier rather than a Samurai.

“Well more specifically I would be his daughter.” The tanned girl replied, her conical helmet obscuring her chestnut hair and eyes.

Yuuki buried her face in her hands as she continued mentally kicking herself. Apparently she hadn’t even summoned a foot soldier!

“If you are disappointed with me, please command me to commit seppuku so that I may join my comrades.” The servant replied in an offended if somewhat eager tone.

Something there caught Yuuki’s attention, “Wait. Your comrades?”

“Yes, father fell ill so I took his place during the Ako incident. Now please give your orders.” The servant explained.

With the threat of having summoned a random nobody as a servant having past Yuuki’s mind was somewhat eased, “Alright, let’s get going. I have a flight to catch.”

“We will be venturing out in public?” Kichiemon questioned, caught of guard by her master’s sudden change of attitude.

“Yes, so be a dear and assume spirit form.” Yuuki said standing up.

“If you want me to use less of your mana then I can use my Noble Phantasm.” She replied.

“Go on.” Yuuki entoned.

“My Noble Phantasm, Daylight Lantern, temporarily makes me human. I won’t draw any mana from you at all, nor will I trip any barriers meant to detect familiars.” Kichiemon explained.

Yuuki lit up at this, with a weaker servant more of the burden would fall to her, and this way her servant at least wouldn’t be a burden on her mana reserves. As the top of her class it was only natural that she relied on her own talent rather than a strong servant.

“Then you will need some regular clothes for the meantime I take it? Go my room is just through that door you can use some of my clothes.” Yuuki said and pointed to the door that lead to her room of the apartment.

Kichiemon did as told so diligently that Yuuki had to check to make sure she hadn’t used a command seal by mistake. She emerged from Yuuki’s room struggling to button up a blouse. “It seems clothing has shifted away from comfort since my time.”

“We just have different measurements. We’ll get you some new clothes on the way.” Yuuki said, glad that there were still a few hours until her flight. If anything she had Luvia’s measurements. The thought of that overly competitive upperclassmen sending a shiver up her spine.

\---

On the opposite end of Eurasia, Ruler’s prophecy had unfolded.

Morning light filtered through round louver of the attic. Master Davies revelled in the sight unveiled by the light. Twelve of his maids, blindfolded, gagged, and bound. However the real treat for the eyes was the pulsating magical circle which the bound beauties were arranged around.

His family was old enough that their magecraft was beginning to decay. Accordingly, he understood that he was unlikely to be selected by the grail. The new blood in his employ were a different story. And judging by the red glow emanating from behind one of them, his little experiment had payed off. Now he only needed to harvest the newly manifested command seals. After all, it wasn’t like any of these girls had any right to the spells, they lived by his gracious charity and would perish without. They were barely human in that regard.

“Very well done Elizabeth.” He congratulated as he approached the shivering blond girl. Her long hair shifting as she looked up in a vain attempt to meet his gaze. She was the orphan collected in a raid of a cultist lair in the Welsh borderlands. Her potency and tenacity had always been a cut above the other orphan girls, so it was no great surprise that she had been the successful one.

She produced some excited squeals as he stepped behind her and bent down to examine the trisected arms of chaos emblazoned on the back of her right hand. He placed his own right hand on her bare shoulder to reassure her as he retrieved the knife from his pocket.

The blade ran across the throat with little resistance and Elizabeth flew into a panic as she felt blood pour across her back. Her muffled screams continuing even as she was cut free of her bonds. At last her blindfold was removed to reveal an impossibly tall armoured woman.

“I ask of you, are you my master?” The tall woman asked, kneeling down so that her brown eyes could meet Elizabeth’s green eyes.

Elizabeth’s mouth opened and closed without producing any sound as she frantically looked around the attic. Her eyes came to rest on the sight of Master Davies’ corpse. At last she found her voice, “Yes. I, Elizabeth Davies, am your one and only master.”

The servant let out a sigh of relief, “I apologise that we had to meet under such unfortunate circumstances.”

“Yes, it is most unfortunate that my servant would dare harm my master.” Elizabeth responded, and basked in the shocked expression on the face of her servant.

“Your master? He was about the kill you! The knife is still in his hand!” The servant roared.

“Master did not inform me of every detail of his plan. As command seals can be transferred by consent, I assume he only intended to cut me free. Still if master had wished to kill me I would not have protested.” As Elizabeth spoke she noted how the servant’s expression shifted from horror at her own action to horror at her master’s words.

The servant stuttered, “D-do you really lack the will to live to such an extent that-”

Elizabeth’s tongue struck out like a sword.“Don’t mistake devotion for suicidal tendencies. As your master I need only invoke a command seal to have to take your life here and now. In fact the Holy Grail permits all manner of abuses. I see no reason why a master servant relationship between humans should be any different. After all, he gave me food and shelter just as I give you mana.”

“Though that sounds like a relationship more common to my time than yours I must concede my fault. My impulse must have overcome my senses. I apologise and will accept any punishment you deem necessary.” The servant lowered it gaze as it stated its remorse.

Elizabeth sized up her servant. She had been wrong in assuming the woman was armoured. While she wore bronze greaves, the only armour on her torso was a bronze disk where her right breast should be. That her right arm was significantly more muscular than her left confirmed that the servant was indeed an amazon.

“Mother to whom?” Elizabeth asked, wanting to know the details of her servant.

The servant perked up at the question and interpreted it as a request to introduce herself, “Hippolyta, Antiope, Melanippe, and Penthesilea. I am Otrera, founding queen of the Amazons and lover of Ares. I have manifested in the Archer class as to serve you best.”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, “I see, each of your daughters were butchered. It is no wonder then that you instinctively lashed out in my defence.”

Otrera nodded as Elizabeth stood up.

A wicked grin grew across Elizabeth’s face as she placed her right hand attop her servant’s head, “I Elizabeth Davies invoke the powers of my command seal. I command Otrera to consume each girl bound within this room, she is to do so within one hour, she is to start at the feet and keep her gaze on the faces of her food for as long as the task permits.”

“No! Master! I beg you to rescind that order!” Otrera plead as one of Elizabeth’s command seals burnt out. However, the fact that she was already crawling towards the nearest of the girls revealed that she was no exception to the command seal’s influence.

As the attic erupted in a cacophony of muffled screams Elizabeth looked on with pride as her servant was made to dispose of her former rivals for master’s affection. She then turned to her master’s corpse. Placing her hands under his armpits she dragged the fat old man to the ladder down stairs, carefully lowering him down to the hallway below. She silently redoubled the noise blocking properties of the attic’s barrier before making the descent herself. From there it was just down the hall to master’s room. She dragged him the rest of the way, through the door he’d left open and propped him up in his favourite chair.

She didn’t really know what to do from there. She eventually settled on putting that matter off until she had showered and put some clothes on. Her next conundrum occured when she realized that showering would mean washing off masters blood, as opposed to somehow keeping it as a memento or consuming it to replenish the mana she’d used in summoning her servant. She eventually decided that just washing it off was a good enough middle position. After completing her shower and donning her maid uniform she decided that she should simply continue the morning routine from there, delivering the morning paper to her master and combing his hair. When the clock struck ten she remembered her orders and returned to the attic.

To her delight the screams were no more, and Otrera stood stiff as a board in the middle of the magic circle. Her face bore a blank expression, as though she did not perceive the blood spatter coating the attic.

“Damn it Archer, now I’m going to have to clean this all up.” Elizabeth scolded, and noted that her servant made no reaction.

“Nothing to say?” She asked.

When she received no response she gave some rudimentary commands, “Look up, down, left, right. Raise your right arm, stand on only your left leg, come forwards, walk back to where you were.”

Seeing as how her servant did as told without once changing its expression she decided on one final experiment was in order, “Approach me, turn away, then lay down on your back.”

Elizabeth watched as her servant did so, her expression the exact same now even though she was staring right up Elizabeth’s skirt. Evidently, either her revulsion to the action or the raw energy of eating eleven mages had fried her brain.

“Well, I’ll consider this an upgrade. Please return to spirit form.” She dismissed her servant, and set off to prepare breakfast. As she walked down the hall towards the stairwell she paused. Master normally read the paper with his breakfast. Today he wouldn’t be eating, and although she had delivered it to him, it wasn’t like he was actually reading it. Dipping into his room she took it from his lap, from his bookshelf she replaced it with a framed photograph of Master and some of his colleagues in Japan.

Directly across the hall from master’s bedroom was a stairway leading down to the entrance way, from there a right turn brought one into the dining room, and another right brough one into the kitchen, where Elizabeth now stood by the stove, stirring porridge with one hand while dispassionately reading the broadsheet she held in her other hand.

A sharp knock on the door shook her out of her passive stupor. She looked at the calendar on the fridge, and saw that the ink was barely dry on the words Harvey @ 10:30. Evidently master had scheduled this immediately before going to check on his experiment.

As quickly as she could she turned off the stove, scampered into the entranceway, straightened the boot mat, opened up the door, ushered her guest in, and then ran in front of the stairs to greet the guest with a curtsy. She may have been too rash in killing all the other maids.

“Oh good morning Elizabeth.” The tall and slim elderly man said, taking his hat of as he walked through the doorway. Mr. Harvey was, much like master, a former Seal Designation Enforcer. He was also notably one of master’s better behaved guests, having never made any advances on her.

“I take it that you being here means that Sammy was able to get a set of command seals from one of you.” He continued as he took his coat off. He was also notably one of the few people able to not only call master by his given name, but a juvenile variant of it at that.

“Sadly, not only the command seals, but a servant manifested. It went on a rampage and slew him as well as my peers. I had to use a command seal to stop it.” She said, and showed him the mark on her hand as she took his jacket to put on the coat hook.

Mr. Harvey was silent for a long time. He spoke not a word nor took his eyes off the ground as she ushered him into the dining room.

Eventually she took it upon herself to break the silence, “If this was meant to be a breakfast meeting, I’m sorry to say that I only have some porridge on the stove. Is there-”

Mr. Harvey’s shoulders slumped and he exhaled loudly, “That sounds great. In fact I’d always assumed that all this luxury would be what did him in.”

She hurriedly ran off to finish heating the meal. She appreciated his practicality, even though he was bordering on speaking ill of her dead master.

As she stirred the pot he spoke again, “Given that Samy’s passed how much longer do you intend to wear that maid uniform?”

She didn’t like that question, it meant contemplating a life without master, “Um, not sure why do you ask?”

“Well, if you intend to participate in the Holy Grail War, those clothes would stand out like a sore thumb in Sault Ste. Marie.” He replied, causing her to drop the ladle out of shock. She had accepted the servant as hers, but the thought of actually participating in the war had not crossed her mind. After being adopted by master, she’d never since even left greater London.

With a new ladle she filled two bowls and, after serving him took up the seat opposite him at the dining table, “So, that’s in France right?”

“No, it’s in Canada.” He replied between mouthfuls.

“Quebec?” She asked.

“No, northern Ontario.” He replied.

“I guess my french maid get up wouldn’t blend in there.” She replied mournfully.

“Please, french maids wear clothes which cover their chest.” He replied, briefly averting his eyes from his bowl to glance at the black bra with white lace trim which was fully revealed by unreasonably low collar of his hostess’ uniform.

Elizabeth looked down at her chest and contemplated having to go out and buy some more normal clothing, “Well that’s a depressing thought.”

\---

On the continent Ruler’s prophecy unfolded. 

Karl took time to admire his find. He had searched long and hard for the mountain circled by ravens. Harder still for the hidden entrance to the cave. All for the strongest servant the world had ever seen. Before him were the rotted remains of a table, a skeleton, and a stone chair. With a catalyst this specific he couldn’t possibly fail. 

He had already drawn the circle, and, feeling it to be fitting, had shot the ravens outside to fill it. One ritual and six battles, no, executions, and he would have the power he’d always dreamed of, the power to declare his independence of the Mages Association.

Left hand raised out he began the incantation and to his delight the blood filled circle began to glow blue, then white, then the whole cave was flooded with blinding light, and then blackness.

The summoned servant opened its eyes to an alarming sight, a newly decapitated body collapsing to the floor. Before it stood an older man, dressed all in black, with what might have been swords between its fingers of his right hand.

“Before you even ask, yes, I am your master.” The man spoke with an authoritative voice and revealed a single command seal upon the back of his left hand.

“I don’t recall making a pact with you.” The servant growled, its blue eyes glaring out from beneath its log unkempt hair.

The elderly asian man smirked and tossed his blades aside, “There’s no one nearby to be your master, you don’t have long for this world if you don’t accept my offer.”

The servant’s eyes locked on the golden cross the man wore, “As a man of the church do you really presume to boss around the Holy Roman Emperor, Christendom’s second-in-command?”

“That particular belief is antiquated and your excommunication revealed just how dependant on us your rule was. Trust me Mr. Barbarossa, when I say that it’s no coincidence that I am appearing before you.” The man replied.

“And what desire does the Church have for participating in such affairs?” The Servant asked.

“This grail war is unofficial, so to is our participation. It’s simply a matter of principle.” The man replied.

“Very well then, the pAct is sealed.” The servant replied, recovering quickly from its voice crack.

Father Nguyen eyed his new servant. The red hair matched accounts. The chainmail and lance also matched the period. However, something was off. The way the chainmail con conformed to the figure revealed unexpectedly pronounced hips and an especially pronounced pair of pects, “Well given what Father Kotomine reported about King Arthur I can’t be too surprised that you are a woman.”

A burst of wind threatened to blow Father Nguyen right out of the cave. His servant had closed the distance and the burning white lance it wielded nearly touched his throat.

“I. Am. A. Man.” It growled.

As menacing as this display of aggression was, the priest couldn’t help but notice that beneath all the hair his servant had a distinctly feminine face, and their legendary red beard was in fact two locks of hair braided together just below their jawline. Still he relented, “Fine, I will refrain from commenting on your physical appearance.”

The servant did not seem wholly pleased with this answer, but removed its spear and assumed a more casual stance, “Don’t they still have hermaphrodites in this day?”

“I see, so you’re a male where it matters?” Father Nguyen questioned.

“I sired each of my sons via entirely natural means if that is what you’re asking.” Frederick responded with an exasperation to his voice that indicated he had spent a lifetime explaining that.

“Very well then, there is a Holy Grail waiting for us on the other side of the Atlantic.” Father Nguyen stated and made for the mouth of the cave.

“Oh I do wish to see Saint Brendan's Island!” Frederick exclaimed, much to his master’s displeasure, “Fine, North America.”

Outside the dim dark cave the sky was clear, the air was crisp, and, as the legends foretold, there was not a raven to be seen. In the light of the outdoors Frederick got a better look at his master. He had not been wrong in accessing his master to be elderly, thought he had over judged the exact extent. The black robed man was certainly old, however the catlike agility he demonstrated in descending the cliff made it clear that he wasn’t quite as old as he looked. Rather, it was clear that his appearance was the result of a lifetime of high stress work. A smile briefly crept across Frederick’s face before he assumed spirit form.

\---

Across the Mediterranean Ruler’s prophecy had unfolded.

Imagine an Indian man. From India. Southern India. Dark skin, long curly black hair, brown eyes. What name would you assign him?

How about Siegfried Maxwell? No? That one didn’t come to mind? Judging by the look on the customs official earlier, neither had they. Sometimes Siegfried felt a more stereotypical name like Raj would have been better, other times he was thankful his anglo-indian father had such a fixation on Wagner, it provided an interesting conversation starter. Going through an airport was one of those times he didn’t need the conversation piece.

“What if I ordered this subject to kill themselves?” His servant asked, sending a chill down his spine. The voice gave off a slippery sensation, not quite like a liquid, more like a boneless cut of meat.

While the customs officer’s head was down Siegfried looked around to make sure his servant had not materialized. Seeing that it hadn’t he thought out his reply as sternly as he could. “No. Of course not.”

“Very well then,” the voice cooed, “I’ll find alternative means to entertain myself.”

Siegfried didn’t appreciate that but he wasn’t going to protest. He had heard that eccentricity lent itself to powerful servants, so he wasn’t going to complain. No, he needed a strong servant to prevail in the coming war. His father would probably have been upset knowing he hadn’t sought out one of the legendary figures from Wagner’s plays, but honestly what he’d acquired could literally have eaten the hero Siegfried for breakfast. He didn’t know what he’d be up against in this grail war, but he knew he was bringing a sledgehammer to a knife fight, and he needed to win, he needed to convince father to pass the family crest to him rather than to his sister.

“What do you think a servant will taste like?” His servant’s voice abruptly chimed in.

“I thought you were entertaining yourself?” Siegfried thought back.

“I prevented a plane from being destroyed by a microburst and decided that would be the high point of anything I did here.” The voice responded.

“That’s rather heroic.” Siegfried commented, glad his servant wasn’t a total psychopath.

“Yes tell me more about how awesome of a ruler I am, for it is true, I will never allow calamity to befall my subjects or any lawful travellers in my domain.” The voice announced.

Siegfried rolled his eyes and began tapping his finger on the desk of the security and customs station. The egyption woman on the other side dryly responded, “Just a few more seconds sir, and, wait, no, ok, and there you check out alright.” The woman passed him back his passport without taking her eyes off her screen.

Siegfried pocketed the small black booklet, “Thanks, and I will be filing a complaint about this.” He also made a mental note to never again visit a country with active security concerns.

After that it was a matter of waiting in line to go through the metal detector, fortunately without incident, then a mad dash to the entry gate for his flight. As he reached the gate and panted as he showed the flight attendant his ticket he heard his servant’s voice, “Now these planes are intriguing, I think I will use the grail to introduce them to my subjects.”

\---

Back in Asia once more, in a land of mountains and forests, Ruler’s prophecy had unfolded.

Chang watched as the setting sun retreated beneath the mountains of the land she intended to betray. A magus was supposed to stand above the fray, but sometimes the fray was inescapable, dragging even gods down into its grim and mucky reality. Her parent’s murderers had been entirely ignorant of magic, they had only been suspected of adhering to one or more of the Four Olds. A mage was supposed to be emotionally aloof, yet some scars run deep. A person was meant to love their country as an extension of their family, yet in a fit a senseless bloodletting her country had deprived her of hers.

Before her, its silhouette masked by the silhouette of the mountains behind it, stood the stele. There was only one heroic spirit that could possibly respond to this summons, and she had chosen this one after a long period of contemplation. She had started with a list of servants with accessible catalysts. Frome there she narrowed down based on speculative power/class and to what degree they would agree with her wish to inflict a second century of humiliation on her native land. A part of her shuddered at the thought of the evil she intended to resurrect. The Yellow Tiger was surely one who would share in such ambitions, eagerly even.

She raised her left hand out over the magic circle she had prepared with mercury. As she began the chant her command seals and the circle began to glow, illuminating the text of the stele, “Heaven brings forth innumerable things to nurture man. Man has nothing good with which to recompense Heaven. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill.”

The ground trembled as though the dead of 400 years ago cried out in protest of their killer’s return.

\---

Back across the Eurasia, Ruler’s prophecy unfolded.

Andre Balbo was in the British Museum after hours. Not a difficult task, he simply needed to wait around in the Clock Tower’s library and then exit as normal. This wasn’t even his first time in the museum after hours, study sessions often lasted longer than he’d like. For a magus, being in a building which was meant to be closed was possibly the most mundane thing. Still, for a student, and a bookworm at that, it still had an air of danger and excitement. More likely though, the tingly sensation coursing through his body was due to the devious and actually dangerous action he was undertaking.

He was in his favourite part of the museum. He was familiar with this area, enough to feel somewhat comfortable amongst the imposing marble statues surrounding him. He returned the empty vial to his bag next to his plane tickets. A little magic was all that was needed to have the mercury he’d poured out assume the shape of a summoning circle. He had no specific catalyst, he’d take any Greek hero.

Extending his left hand he began the chant. Only to stop when he heard the sound of a vase shattering on the floor.

“Fuck.” He seethed under his breath, “Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” he continued when he found the shattered remains of the Siren Vase. He felt sick. He came here to relive Greek history, not destroy it. As a magus he could easily ensure this wasn’t on him, and truth be told he had no idea the summoning ritual would destroy anything. Still, he didn’t like that he’d done that. His guilt wracked brain felt like it was melting as he ran through the list of spells he knew. He knew he had a spell for reassembling broken objects, it started with a c... cun… con…

A hand grabbed him by the back of his collar, “Alright that’s enough of that!”

Andre’s heart nearly stopped, “I didn’t do it!”

“Sure, sure.” The man said as he dragged Andre along. He was a big man, not the biggest, but taller and wider than the average Briton, and far taller than a below average height Italian man like Andre. The man wore the yellow fluorescent vest of museum security and had a head of curly blond hair.

Andre knew the museum, he knew the layout of the exhibits, he knew he was being dragged towards the security office. He began thinking up a spell that could get him out of there, a simple memory spell would do fine.

“So why are you here after hours?” The man asked.It was almost like this guy knew about magic and was trying to mess up Andre’s thought process.

“Um just wanted to see the statues at night.” Andre answered.

“And you say you didn’t break the vase?” The man asked.

“Yeah there must have been someone else there. I mean I got in, so it can’t be difficult.” Andre answered. He looked at his surroundings, they had already passed the security office. The man had to be an agent of the Clock Tower, and that was far far worse than a mere security guard.

“Alright then, are you my master?” Man asked, swinging his dragging hand forward slinging Andre across lobby floor towards the exit.

Andre adjusted his glasses to take another look at the towering security guard who calmly pulled a key from his key ring as he approached.

“Um, Yes?” Andre said, shocked by the present turn about.

As the man helped Andre to his feet and unlocked the door Andre got a look at the man’s name tag, Odie, and it all clicked into place just as the door clicked open. The security guard ushered him through and with a nod of the head said, “Well then master, you have a plane to catch.”

\---

At the crossroads of Central, Southern, and Eastern Europe, Ruler’s prophecy unfolded.

The crisp night air hung still, as if God was holding his breath in anticipation. A mountain towered above, appearing from this side as any other mountain in the alps. Adrian Novak dropped from his treetop perch, and after catching a few branches on the way down to slow his fall landed somewhat ungracefully amongst the pitchblack forrest bellow.

He brought a hand up above his head and, without needing to feel around for it, pulled down his helmet mounted night vision goggles. A real magus probably would have used a spell.

He walked towards a pile loose rocks at the foot of the mountain, at the top of which a gap just big enough for him to squeeze through granted him access to a cave beyond. A real magus would have just used a combination of spells and connections to be able to walk through the official entrance way.

The tunnel he found himself in was one that the tourism organization which ran the joint didn’t know about. Neither had the forces of the Holy Roman Empire when they besieged the castle hanging off the other side of the mountain. No, only the owner of that great manner, his most trusted subjects, and their descendants knew of this tunnel.

As he made his way up the winding tunnel and emerged into the main cave system he saw the unmistakable glowing circle of a flashlight’s beam on a nearby wall. Adrian crouched behind a group of stalagmites and unholstered his pistol. A real magus would have prepared a gandr.

He flipped the goggles backup to let his eyes adjust to the light levels in the much better lit cave. Alright, he thought toggling off the safety, turn back if you know what’s good for you.

Almost on cue the illumination of the flashlight moved away and Adrian could hear the sound of footsteps growing ever more distant. Only once he could no longer hear their echo did Adrian leave cover, confident that the night security guard was now back in the castle section of the area and therefore safe from the man with the gun.

Deciding that this must have been far enough Adrian pulled out a handful of self-dissolving gems and set to work laying them within the magic circle he’d carved on a previous night with his bayonet. He stood back and began to recite the summoning ritual chant.

As he did, he felt much more tense. It wasn’t every day one plucked someone out of the throne of heroes, dragging them out into modern reality. Much more so for one who had passed up the chance to be a real magus. No, soldier of fortune magazine had sold him on the Bosnian War and he hadn’t looked back, at least until Afghan and Iraqi contracts began drying up. Syria was an option, but he was starting to get on in years. Evidently he’d made a mistake somewhere along the way. Now was the time to look for a redo, ironically by enlisting the help of an ancestor who had destroyed the family’s fortune in a single act of stupidity.

A brilliant blue light swelled forth from the circle, and there emerged a man clad in a blue coat of plates bearing pieces of brilliantly polished plate armour. As the light faded the man sized up his summoner and asked, “Are you my-”

Adrian put his hand over the Servant’s mouth, “Yes Erazem Predjamski, that is the case, now we must go.”

The servant was most undignified, not at being silenced, he could hear fast footsteps in the cave after all, rather he was opposed to that name, “My master is to be a wend skulking about my castle?”

Adrian yanked his servant into the hidden side tunnel, “Yeah no, I got news for you, your master is your descendant.”

“No no no. I, Erasmus of Lueg, never sired children with a Wend.” He interjected as he was pulled along through the tunnel.

“Yeah, and you were also the lord of this castle. By the way, thanks for killing the marshal of the HRE. Really did wonders for the family’s fortune.” Adrian remarked as he lead the way.

“I’ll offer my condolences, but can hardly apologise for that. When a man believes in something there are somethings he simply must do. There may be no room for regret.” The servant replied, and the failed magus turned mercenary could only roll his eyes.

\---

Back across the Atlantic, Ruler’s prophecy had unfolded.

“Are you the mage who seeks my service?” The mountain of chainmail and muscle standing in the middle of Alexandros’ lounge asked.

If Alexandros was nervous he did not show it, no, this was just a contract negotiation, a mere subset of business transaction, “That is indeed the case. Can I trust that your previous commitment won’t be an obstruction?”

The towering figure standing in the magic circle paused and shifted his weight before replying, “That I am here before can only be so if my master is allowing this. Therefore my service to you is by extension still service to him.”

Alexandros smirked, it paid to know exactly who one was dealing with, “So you are saying that God wants to aid me in my pursuit of world domination?”

The massive figure’s shoulders slumped and he set down his large chi ro bearing ovular shield and he let out an exasperated sigh, “If that is indeed your wish then I have to assume that that is the case.”

Alexandros stared dumbfounded at the response. He knew that the heroic spirits weren’t blindly obedient, so he had actually been prepared to be reprimanded by the spirit he had chosen to summon. This lukewarm response was unexpected, yet not unwelcome. A smile crept across his face as he assessed his servant to be an affable straight shooter, a good employee to have.

Before he could respond his servant asked a question, “Why did you choose to summon me? Surely there is a wide range of conquerors you could have paired with, yet you chose an artifact that is too closely linked to me to possibly summon anyone else.”

That question was something Alexandros did have a rehearsed response to, “Why would I not want the man strong enough to give God a piggyback ride?”

The servant seemed satisfied by this answer, “Then I shall gladly protect you on your journey.”

\---

Mister Condrie stepped from the cab. He was back. The grass was a little long, it looked like the people he hired were mowing the lawn on a monthly basis rather than the biweekly basis they had agreed to.

“So monsieur, this is your childhood home?” Marie asked, looking at the modest two floor house complete with its off white vinyl siding.

“Yes.” Condrie replied as he lead the saint up the gravel driveway around the back of the house to the door to the extension, “Sorry, a key broke in the front door, so until I get that fixed we’ll have to use this back door.”

He let her enter first. The extension housed the kitchen and connected to the dining room which itself connected to the living room at the front of the house. Running along the left side of the house was a couple of smaller rooms, a utility room with a clothes washing machine, dryer, and shower stall, and the front entrance way which contained a boot mat and the flight of stairs leading up, beneath which the water heater was tucked away.

He showed Ruler around the house, a lengthier process than he would have liked seeing as Marie insisted on seeing inside every drawer. When she finished examining the water heater she turned to him with a smile, “Shall we look at the up stairs?”

“Alright.” he said, leading her up, and running an index finger along the railing, coming away with a lot of dust.

Marie must have seen his frown, “You don’t like dust monsiegure? I noticed your home in Toronto was speckless.”

“Does anyone?” He asked.

“Hm, well I certainly don’t like it per say, but I guess being from a time when one had to spend their day on matters of survival I just don’t get the obsession with keeping it out.” She answered.

“Yeah, I guess if grocery stores didn’t exist I’d have bigger problems than a little dust.” He said, evidently forgetting that his biggest problem was the Grail War and the beast, not mere dust.

“So up here we just have two and a half bedrooms, two closets, and a bathroom. Now if you’ll excuse me, I didn’t sleep all that well last night and think I’ll hit the hay now.” He said, strolling down the hall and hanging a left into his old room. Inside, the room with the heavily sloped ceiling was like a time capsule of his high school years, complete with a poster of a Pontiac GTO above his bed. Something which severely dated the room as those had been out of production for a while, and it’d been even longer since there was a poster worthy iteration of that model. He could hear Ruler exploring the other rooms, bhut he didn’t care, he didn’t even bother removing the plastic dust covers from his bed before flopping onto it and crashing into a world of imageless black.

Imagine being able to be anywhere and everywhere unexpected. Hard to contemplate, yes?   
Imagine seeing the world from the inside of a massive beaked mouth. Imposing, yes?  
Imagine having hands which could rend flesh from bone with the same ease as peeling a banana. Powerful, yes?  
Imagine draping flesh across your antlers. Fashionable, yes?  
Imagine twisting the torso and head 180 degrees in the opposite direction. Efficient, yes?  
Imagine knowing where to cut to make someone fall apart. Ingenious, yes?  
Imagine dumping the corpses in their shed in your shared backyard. Close to home, yes?  
Imagine me beating you here. Unnerving, yes?

Condrie woke up in a violent coughing fit, a glance at his watch told him it’d been less than an hour. He sat upright, back stiff as a board, as he grasped at the fading memory of that dream. Shared backyard…

He bolted out of his room and into the room across the hall to look out its back facing window.

“Monsieur?” Ruler asked as he made he looked out at the dry and overgrown grass of his backyard. There was still no fence separating it from the Mcarthur’s also oddly overgrown backyard.

His heart plummeted and he bolted out of the room with Ruler trailing behind him. Down the stairs, through the utility room, through the dining room and from there it was a straight shot to the kitchen door.

He tried to compose himself as he crossed his lawn and the paved driveway of the Macarthurs to knock on their side door. There was no answer so he tried again. He recalled that their door bell wasn’t working, something he confirmed upon giving it a try.

“Monsieur?” Ruler asked, only now reaching the back door.

Condrie ran around the house only to find that all the curtains had been drawn. His heart fell all the way into his stomach as he turned towards their shed. Slowly he approached. It looked normal from the outside. At least from a far. As he closed, he noticed that the door, while latched, was without padlock. He noticed deep gashes in the wooden ramp which helped their tractor mower get in and out of the slightly raised shed. He noticed the broken padlock on the ground, he noticed the tunnel made by an animal trying to get under the shed. He felt himself pass through the barrier that was containing the stench. His eyes watering from the repugnant smell he unlatched the door and fell backwards as a wave of the stench billowed out into the neighbourhood. A series of growls and shrieks emanated from the pile of corpses as something moved amongst them.

Yes. This was unnerving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rather long for an extended intro?
> 
> Well the author of Fate/Strange Fake spent the first volume of his series to introduce his master servant pairs. Then again, he's an actually good writer who's worth reading, unlike me.
> 
> Well I will thank you for making it through the above slog. I am very new around here, so as cringey as it may sound, feed back is very much appreciated.


	3. The Reinventor of the Holy Balance

Yes, the smell was unrelenting. Young Albert thought as he swung back and forth like a pendulum on his swing. It had come about all of a sudden, as though someone had just uncorked a bottle of something foul. The pungent smell hung thick in the air, like an aerosolized liquid.He kicked up some dust as he skidded his swing to a stop. The smell was too much, he’d see if it were any better out front, and go indoors if that wasn’t the case.

Venturing out onto his front lawn didn’t help. Quite the opposite, it smelled stronger. As he turned to walk back to his house, he heard the blare of sirens. A full 9-1-1 call worth of emergency vehicles came barrelling around the corner and down his street. Albert watched as they pulled up to the curb out front of the Mcarthur’s place. The firefighters and paramedics held back as the police made their way into the Mcarthur’s backyard.

“Albert! Come inside!” His mother called frantically from the front doorway. With a last glance at the cavalcade of emergency vehicles he ran back to his mother.

“Alright, play or watch TV, I’ll uh, go ask what’s the matter.” His mother said, ushering him through the doorway and closing the door behind her as she stepped out.

He took his shoes off and made his way to the carpeted floor of the family’s living room. Instinctively he flopped onto the couch and pressed the power button on the remote. However the retreat into normalcy stopped there. Maybe it was the ever so faint lingering stench from outside. Maybe it was just that all TVO could offer him was a Creepy Canada rerun. Either way, he soon found himself playing with his wand and top hat with the TV off.

\---

Across the street mister Condrie huddled on his home’s front porch, the blanket the police had given him draped across his back and its clenched firmly his hands. There’d been a racoon. The movement and shrieking had merely been a racoon which had gotten into the shed without tripping whatever barrier had been keeping the smell in. He’d been questioned non-stop since the police had shown up. Fortunately ruler was able to telepathically coach him through his answers, and now the officers had given him some breathing room.

As he sat on the porch steps he noticed someone approaching. An average height woman walked down the street, her brown hair done up in a simple ponytail. Her stride said she had purpose, her fiddling hands said she was fighting a great deal of apprehension. As she came closer he recognized her. She’d been one of the kids in the neighbourhood whom he’d played with and went to school with. She was Alexa Mcalister, with an emphasis on “was” as he recalled her marrying. She’d married Adam Anderson, the grade’s jokester. Weakly he returned to his feet and stumbled backwards, coming to lean back against the jammed front door. This display of physical inadequacy was enough to catch the woman’s attention. He waved and she seemed to have recognized him, as she hastened her pace and shifted her direction to now walk right towards him.

“Jean?” She called as a police officer stopped her at the curb.

Jean Condrie pulled himself off the wall and managed to walk down to meet her, “Alexa, I…”

“What happened?” She asked as she looked around at the unfolding scene.

Jean opened his mouth only for the officer separating the two to interject, “Sir, at this time I’m going to have to ask you to not disclose matters pertaining to the case.”

With that Jean contented himself with sitting on his front lawn, watching and waiting as the police did their work.

A black Impala turned onto the street and pulled up to the curb. The driver’s door opened and an aged dainty asian woman stepped out.

“Mr. Jean Condrie.” She addressed him, “Detective Chang, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, we have much to discuss.”

He followed her to the backyard and noticed that none of the local policemen seem to take notice of the detective’s arrival. A spat over jurisdiction should have broken out, “You’re a magus I presume.”

“I’m merely a detective investigating a serial killer who has killed in three of our ten provinces.” She replied.

“Is that so?” he asked meekly.

“Well it allows me to commandeer the efforts of local law enforcement for the duration of the Grail War. Speaking of, let’s talk about your hand in this.” She said.

“My hand?” Condrie muttered in confusion.

“Yes, my manipulation of my fellow countrymen pales in comparison to you bringing the Grail War to your home town.” She replied evenly, “I have half a mind to charge you with incitement for this murder and that of anyone else caught in the crossfire.”

Mister Condrie felt his mouth drying up as she continued, “Now if you wish to avoid such I recommend you end your neutrality as overseer and yield to me any information which might help me prevent the capture of your Grail by a suspect party.”

“You speak in error, Monsieur Condrie isn’t the overseer.” Marie’s voice stated from behind Chang.

“Ruler.” Chang growled and pulled the leather glove from her left hand as she turned towards Ruler.

“You will want to duck.” Marie’s voice sounded in Condrie’s head before she spoke out loud, “You will find that I’ve temporarily overwritten your command spells.”

Chang turned and drew her side arm in one swift motion aiming where Condrie’s head would be, had he not heeded Marie’s advice. None of the police officers around had any reaction to this, confirming that they were under some sort of enchantment.

“I see the precognitive skills of St. Marie of the Incarnation are as sharp as the legends would suggest.” Chang said as she reholstered her weapon.

“Indeed, don’t presume yourself able to pull one over this War’s observer.” Marie replied then yielded, “I will however divulge some knowledge as it suits us.”

“Oh?” Chang intoned.

“Oui, the perpetraitor of this murder is a master and servant who have retained their contract from the previous Holy Grail War. This Grail War was meant to be a trap to lure them back into an environment where they would be forced to fight other servants. We did not think they would preempt us like this.” Marie replied.

“I didn’t expect that. Mind you he’s not the only one to have preempted you. By my count six foreigners arrived prior to you, and one was in fact on your flight. Still this additional master you speak of warrants extra concern. He has been here, preparing, for at least a week going by the state of the body. Additionally he has the experience of a past Grail War under his belt.” With that she regloved her hand and bid them farewell.

As she walked down the driveway to her car she noticed that someone up the street was dressed… too Canadian. A Roots toque, a red and black plaid flannel shirt, and an HBC scarf. The first and final of those items being especially suspect given the rather mild temperature. Chang suppressed a smile upon realizing that this master at least wasn’t worth her concern.

\---

Elizabeth Davies wasn’t particularly impressed with her lodging. The street stunk of death, something the online posting had carefully omitted. She didn’t like it, that smell reminded her of the time before her time with master. The smell unsettled her so greatly that she had arranged for master’s removal the same day he passed so as to avoid any such smell. All that effort only to find this. She raised her hand to knock on the door and hesitated as she recalled fruitlessly trying the door of her cage over and over again in that foul smelling dark room.

“Oh I’m sorry, I hope you weren’t waiting here long.” The woman hurriedly making her way up the walkway apologised.

“Oh, no worries I haven’t even knocked yet.” Elizabeth replied and stood aside to let the woman unlock the door.

“I’m Alexa Anderson. You’re Ms. Davies I presume?” The woman asked and extended her hand after inserting the key.

“Yes, I’m sorry I arrived a little later than expected.” Elizabeth replied and glanced at the concentration of police cars down the road as she shook the extended hand.

“I’m sorry about the smell it just came out of nowhere an hour ago, fortunately it’s started to clear already.” Alexa replied.

“Understood.” Elizabeth stated as Alexa lead her in. The inside of the house was quite open concept, from the foyay she had a clear view into both the kitchen/dining area and the living room where a small boy was fiddling with the false bottom of a toy magician’s hat.

“Alright then, I’ll show you to your quarters.” Alexa said and directed Elizabeth down a hallway. At the last door along the hallway she turned and handed a key to Elizabeth, “This here is your room, that key is good for both this door and the sliding door which leads to the backyard. You’re welcome to come and go as you wish. Dinner will be at six if that’s alright with you.”

“That sounds fair to me, I’d like to rest a bit anyways.” Elizabeth replied, glancing at her watch as she accepted the keys.

Inside the room a queen bed, nightstand, dresser, and television set greeted her. As promised the room had a closet and its own bathroom. She unpacked what little she brought with her, sorting her changes of clothes into the drawers of the dresser and then threw off the scarf and toque, it was hot out, and she hadn’t seen anyone else dressed as such on her long walk over. Feeling that she had hat-head she went to the washroom to try to remedy that matter.

Indeed her hair was messy and, with the exception of a strand of hair which nearly stood upright, it was matted down to her head. Running a comb through it almost fixed it, but that one strand stubbornly stood up. Wetting it down yielded nothing. She scowled at the stubborn strand’s reflection and then with fists clenched in frustration returned to her room to do something else.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw something, a clawed hand pulling back the curtain. Activating her self-reinforcement magic she closed the distance with the curtains in the blink of an eye and pulled them back to find nothing. Only the sliding glass door and a view of the backyard greeted her behind the curtain. Beyond that the thick underbrush and the darkness of the forest depths formed a hard limit on how far she could see. This was her reason for picking this place, if the need arose she could disappear into the forest at the drop of a hat. Since being adopted by Master Davies she’d lived in an urban setting. Before that though she dimly recalled living in the country where large fields and forested hills made up most of her surroundings. It had been while wandering through one such forest that the bizarre cult had grabbed her.

She shook herself out of that sentimental stupor. The stench of the outside was just barely perceptible by the sliding door, so to distance herself from it she went and sat on the bed. It was stupid to dwell on that stupid cult. The more she learned of magic the more amature and stupid their whole operation became. One day they would call her Arthur as they kicked and beat her. The next they’d call her bongo-something-or-other as they kissed and caressed her. It was upsetting and nonsensical in equal proportions. Rolling over to the other side of the bed she reached into her duffle bag and pulled out the one thing she hadn’t unpacked yet. A metal box. She’d been holding it when the cult took here and she hadn’t let go of it until a month after being rescued by master. It had stayed in her hands even as it was perforated with nails and had one side completely ripped off. It saw her through that experience, it’d see her through this one.

\---

Andre waited as the hotel’s desk clerk frantically tried checking him in, “I’m sorry, the system isn’t being the most cooperative this evening.”

Andre nodded and turned his head to examine the latest arrival through the hotel lobby’s sliding door. Seeing a familiar face he waved and was pleased to receive a warm smile in return.

It took a moment for the implications to sink in, but sure enough, just as Andre nearly tripped over his luggage as he stumbled back, the japanese girl hastily hid behind her long black hair.

Yuuki Miyanoshita hoped that her reflexive expression had been brief enough to not serve as confirmation, but her classmate pointed right at her with his mouth hanging open in shock. She decided to roll with it, “Wow you beat me here Andre-san!”

“I uh um uh” Andre had a tendency to overthink, and was likely still tallying up all the reasons why a servant battle would be inappropriate in this location.

“You remembered to get a room with two beds right?” She asked as she skipped over, and grabbed his right arm.

Andre glanced from Yuuki to her travelling companion who kept one pace’s distance, “Yeah. About that, I forgot about that requirement.”

“I can probably change that.” The desk clerk offered.

“Probably?” Yuuki asked.

“Maybe.” the clerk replied with an affirmative inflection.

“Make that a yes!” He added and in a whirlwind of movement quickly produced a sign in sheet and pair of key cards, “So yes, just sign here, initial here, and put the licence plate of your vehicle here, make and model will suffice if you can’t recall it off the top of your head. Thank you for staying smart with Holiday Inn Express Sault Ste. Marie!”

“I don’t have a-”

“I do!” Yuuki exclaimed and pushed Andre aside.

With that matter settled Andre found himself leading them to their room, and he took the oportunity to steer them towards the starwell, “So Yuuki, what do you intend to accomplish here.” Andre asked once they reached the stairwell.

Her travelling partner pinned him against the wall and held a long curved blade to his neck, “Yes master, what shall we do with this easy-”

Andre’s salvation came in the form of a hefty black flashlight sailing through the air to smack his assailant’s head dropping her to the ground.

“No LARPing in the hotel!” a security guard hollered as he quickly descended the stairs and put a foot attop the girl’s sword hand as he bent over to recover his flashlight, “Got that?”

After a moment Yuuki spoke, “So Andre-san, this is your servant?”

“Maam, I’m a security guard under contract with Holiday Inn, I’m a servant to every guest in this building.” The guard replied.

“Yes, but when you intervened Andre’s expression showed relief but no surprise, and now he looks downright terrified.” Yuuki continued.

Andre shook his head and resumed a neutral expression, “I have no clue what you could be talking about.”

“Master, you’re going to have to do better than that if we’re to do this whole assassin thing.” The security guard replied and knelt down next to the girl who remained sprawled on the ground, his uniform morphing into a magnificent set of black and gold armour and his flashlight becoming a curved short sword.

Andre forced a confident expression, “So this is your servant?”

“Yes, though she’s not very obedient.” Yuuki sighed and shook her head at the girl sprawled on the floor, “I actually hoped to propose an alliance to you, but then she had to threaten you.”

“Well master?” Odyseus asked without removing his blade from the neck of the girl he’d dropped to the floor.

Given the choice between killing a classmate and not doing so the answer was obvious, “Yeah that sounds good.”

\---

Elizabeth Davies glared at her reflection in the mirror and groaned. Her little nap had left her with bed-head, and once again that cursed strand insisted on standing up despite extensive combing. Once more she accepted defeat and left to do something else.

This time that something else involved going out into the backyard and sitting at the picnic table as the kid performed basic sleight of hand tricks.

“Alright guess which one has the marble!” the boy instructed and puffed out his chest with pride.

“Too easy. Green, you put it under the green cup to begin with, and there’s only one green cup. The cups need to be all the same colour for this trick to wor-” Elizabeth explained and flicked the green plastic cup over to see that it wasn’t hiding anything.

“A-ha! You underestimated this trick and when you looked away I lifted the pair of cups that I was switching, changing which cup held the marble!” The boy explained and revealed the marble beneath the blue cup.

Elizabeth grinned, “Clever, but that’ll only work once on a person.”

The boy set the marble back under green, “Tsk tsk tsk, ye have too little faith in the great Albert Anderson! Now watch carefully.”

Elizabeth watched as the red, blue, and green cups quickly traded places, to her eye, none of them left the table, “Um… it’s still green?”

“Nope.”

“Blue. Their last pass was particularly fast and close.”

“Nope.”

“Then it’s red.”

Albert lifted that one as well, revealing it to be empty, “Nope. I actually purposely dropped the marble down the crack between the boards.”

A quick glance under the table revealed the shiny marble ginting amongst the grass, “That actually is a good trick.”

“Now you show me a magic trick!” Albert demanded and Elizabeth nearly tumbled out of her seat in shock.

“Um, like what?” She asked.

“Something truly amazing to rival my exploits!” he exclaimed.

Elizabeth frowned as she tried to think over the sleight of hand tricks in her arsenal, when it amounted to none she decided on a crueler trick, “Ok, go bring me something old and cool.”

When the boy ran off to do as requested Elizabeth walked over to his sandbox. The sand was dark and thick from the recent rain showers and she was able to mark clear and deep lines and symbols in it. In lieu of gems, blood, or mercury she opted for some of the clover in the backyard; a crappy material for a crappy joke.

“Here you go!” Said the boy as he handed her a rotten lump of wood.

She turned the smooth and soft sub-rectangle over in her hands a few times, “And this is?”

“When my parents got married, they went to Brazil, and on the bank of the amazon they found an old canoe paddle which they took part as a souvenir.” The boy replied, leaving out the part where it had been smuggled through customs.

Elizabeth had hoped for an old book or a sword or well anything more storied, but relented, “Sure, now just stand over there.”

As the boy moved to where he was directed she placed the lump of wood opposite him in the sand box, “Alright now extend your left hand and say …” She didn’t say anything when her servant appeared, she honestly didn’t know the incantation.

“Say what?” he asked as she was lost in thought.

“Whatever magic words comes to mind.” She replied, expecting hocus-pocus or something magician-y.

The Boy closed his eyes and furrowed his brow before assuming an eerily calm expression, “Let the essence be irrelevant, let the foundation be equally so, let brown be the colour I leave behind, abandon walls for the open elements, kick open those gates which are closed, let me confidently turn my back on any and all roads. I hereby suggest, your body shall be my guide, my fate shall break your shackles, rise to the occasion offered by the Holy Grail, if this at all entices you then answer! An offer will be made, that I will learn the secrets of every land under heaven, that I shall do so without malice or lust. From the forest floor where no words have ever been spoken, come forth from the sleep that imprisons. Reinventor of the Holy Balance!”

To Elizabeth’s dismay a huge puff of white smoke plumed up from the magic circle. As it began to clear a voice replied, “Well then lad, Might you be my master.”

The boy grew weak at the knees and sat down. Amidst the smoke stood a tall man with a full beard, waxed handlebar moustache, and broad brimmed hat. In stunned silence he looked up at what he’d done.

The man grew impatient, “Well boy, speak up. You’re not a mute are you?”

“No, but who are you?” Albert asked.

“I’m your explorer class servant.” The man replied, “That much should be obvious.”

“Well can you go away? Mom might see you?” Albert requested, not knowing what else to say.

“Ha, I will assume spirit form until I am called upon.” The jovial servant declared and disappeared in blue mist.

The boy did not know exactly what had transpired but he felt exhausted, unable to stand as the guest who had instructed him grumbled under her breath and kicked out the ash filled circle in the sand.


End file.
